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Show 22-3 It took me longer. I wanted to just sit on the steps all afternoon and watch the butterflies in the flowerbed. I didn't want to think about anything. Father came home early but said he had to go back out to St. John's. One of his patients was dying. I asked if I c o u l d g o w i t h hlm< T hadn.t ^ ^ since the afternoon Andrew had told us about Paul. So after dinner, we took the motorcycle out of the garage. Mother stood on the front porch and watched us nervously as we backed out. "I thought you trusted me, Kate," Father called to her. "Yes, but with Annie . . . I don't know," she shouted back. Then she shrugged and waved us off. I hugged Father and we started down the street. The air was cooler now than it had been the first night I rode with Father and I had goosebumps all over by the time we arrived. "I'll tell Andrew you're here. You can't come in this late in the evening. Where shall I tell him you'll be?" "Over on our bench. On the other side." I pointed to the bench where we had first met, the bench that was usually too Sunny but that tonight faced out over a field of shadows and moonlight. "I'll try not to be too long. Enjoy your visit." And Father rested his hand on my head for a moment as he looked at the lights of the hospital. Inside, his patient lay dying. I wondered who it was. I didn't ask. I waited on the bench, shivering a little as the wet air settled around me. The light from the tall hospital windows stretched out on the lawn to the left of me and I could hear the sound of several radios, all tuned to different programs. Occasionally, I heard laughter. Then Andrew came, slipping so quietly onto the bench that I only knew he was there by the smell of the strong hospital soap. Or maybe I had been asleep. |